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My uncle looks back at him with something akin to bafflement.
Not understanding why he has such a big problem helping me, I shift Abel a bit in my arms and open the folder.
The first thing I see is a glossy photo of a man in a suit. A veryhandsome man in a suit.
He’s so good-looking and put together, I wonder for a second if I’m staring at a model shoot or something.
“That’s Lucifer,” Stewart says helpfully above me.
I peek up to see him bent forward, peering over my shoulder.
Stewart points at the photo. “You’ve probably heard of him. He pretty much runs this city. He and his men.”
I’ve never heard of him. The only Lucifer I’ve ever heard of was in the bible, but I don’t say it. I keep my mouth shut, ready to absorb whatever Stewart is willing to provide before my uncle tries to shut it down again.
“I doubt you’ll see him. He doesn’t get out to his businesses much these days. Ever since he got married and had a few kids, he’s dropped off the map.”
I slide that photo to side, revealing another photo of a man in a suit.
“That’s Simon Whitmore, his right-hand man. Again, it’s doubtful you’ll run into him, but if you do, keep an eye on him.”
I start to slide Simon’s photo to the side, on top of Lucifer’s photo, but Stewart reaches down to stop me.
Picking up the two photos, he sets them side by side on the coffee table.
“You’ll need to memorize all their faces,” he says.
I nod and look down at yet another photo of a man in a suit.
“That’s Andrew Baxter.”
Blinking down at the photo, I try to absorb his features, separating them from the other two. The three of them are nothing alike in the looks department, but it’s the suits and lack of dimension throwing me off.
No doubt if I saw them together in the flesh, it would be easy to differentiate between them.
Stewart takes Andrew’s photo and sets it beside Simon’s.
Then we go through four more photos. Four more photos of men in suits.
Johnathan, Gabriel, Uriel, and James.
They end up spread out on the coffee table, side by side.
A bunch of rich, privileged men whose names mean nothing to me.
Stewart taps the next picture with emphasis. “Nathaniel Smith. He will probably be your easiest target. Freshly sprung from the joint and single. You should focus all your efforts on him if you encounter him.”
“Efforts?” I ask and frown at Nathaniel’s picture. “What kind of efforts are we talking here?”
Hopefully they’re not expecting me to sleep with them…
“What do you think, Eden?” Uncle Mickey sneers at me, his voice rough from all the coughing. “You think you’re going to get paid half a mil to play pat-a-cake with them?”
Maybe I should have asked what the job entailed before I pushed so hard for it... Fuck.
My skin crawls at the thought of trying to seduce one of these men. Seducing them and sleeping with them for money.
I’ve never resorted to that.
